Blackout

Original Edition: 20 | Magnetic

"Alright, let's see you walk in a straight line," I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

He accepts the challenge, rising to his feet, gripping the top of his stool for balance. With a determined look on his face, he tries to walk across the kitchen floor to the other side of the room, but he wobbles, staggering slightly, and he has to latch onto the counter to keep himself from catapulting to the ground. He sighs, dragging a hand over his face, gazing in the direction of the front door.

"You can crash on the couch," I tell him, standing up from my own chair, heading in the direction of the hallway closet to grab him some bedding. "Sofia won't be home until tomorrow afternoon, so you don't have to worry."

Mason follows behind me quietly, our footsteps padding on the laminate floor, and I locate the closet, sliding the doors open and grabbing a handful of blankets. He purses his lips together when he sees them. "At least let me help you," he says, reaching out to take them out of my hands, but I jerk out of his grasp stubbornly.

The sudden movement causes my head to spin, my knees buckling, and he reaches out, his hands flying to my waist to steady me as my breath catches. Startled by the sudden contact, I meet his eyes, always seeming to draw me in with a magnetic pull, and he looks equally shocked by our unexpected closeness, mere inches apart, only separated by a mound of blankets. Clearing my throat, I take a step back, and his fingers slip from my hips.

"Sorry," I mumble, and he nods before I turn away, heading to the living room and feeling a burn in my cheeks.

We enter the room, and it feels too dark, so I reach over to flick on the lamp above the couch. Unfortunately, the light only serves to bask Mason in a soft glow that does things to my heart, and I quickly look away, setting the blankets down.

"Will you be okay out here?" I ask, risking a glance in his direction again.

His lips upturn in a small smile as he nods again, taking a seat. "I'll be fine, Alina," he murmurs. "Thank you."

"Goodnight, Mason," I say, realizing I said the exact same thing to him hours ago on the phone, but I mean it this time.

"Goodnight."

Leaving him to get settled and hopefully get a bit of rest, I turn away, making for my bedroom. My heart still beats a little faster in my chest with the knowledge that Mason is just downstairs, and it's both a comforting and terrifying thought. Taking a deep breath, I settle under the covers, willing my heartbeat to slow down, my blinks becoming increasingly slower until my eyes finally fall closed.

And for the first time in a long time, I sleep peacefully.

✘✘✘

When I finally fight my way out of my groggy haze, I begrudgingly push myself into a sitting position, my head heavy and pounding. Grimacing, I place a hand to my forehead, in desperate need of an Advil. Or five. I rise to my feet with a lengthy yawn, the events of last night slowly coming back to me. The moment it finally registers that Mason Byrne spent the night, I stop short, freezing in my tracks, the concept entirely too ridiculous for my early morning brain to process. Surely none of that happened.

Moving quickly, I fly down the stairs, paying no mind to the fact that it makes my headache intensify as I head straight for the living room, taking note of the wine bottles and empty glasses in the kitchen, a hint that everything actually did happen last night. I stop in front of the couch, still needing to see to believe, though it's too late. Mason has already vacated the area, leaving the blankets folded neatly on the cushions. A small, folded note rests on the pillow, and tentatively, I reach for it.